


The Best of Us Can Find Happiness in Misery

by lucybeetle



Category: Kamen Rider Amazons (2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Foot Fetish, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeetle/pseuds/lucybeetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazu takes an unexpected interest in 19th-century Russian literature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best of Us Can Find Happiness in Misery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guava/gifts).



> Written, as is most of my recent work, for guava - who came up with the plot and helped me edit. ILU always.
> 
> First foot porn fic I've ever written. Although it's not great, I think it's important to sometimes write things outside one's comfort zone.

“I’m bored,” said Kazuya, one more time.

Out of _how_ many times, Fukuda couldn’t be sure. He’d lost count long ago. He ignored Kazuya, and turned another page of the book he was reading.

Kazuya said “Why aren’t you out there supportin’ Non, anyway?” and took another swig from the bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand. He seemed to have got through more than usual tonight, probably because of his boredom. They'd already drunk most of the beer in the fridge.

“ _Someone_ had to stay here with you.” The truth was that neither Kazuya nor the rest of them needed any form of trouble right now; and Kazuya, in an environment where there would be gambling, spelt trouble. The whole team had agreed it was best if he didn’t go along to Nozomi’s fight - except Kazuya himself, and he’d been outvoted. Fukuda had been unanimously nominated for the duty of Kazuya-sitting. He couldn’t say he minded too much. He experienced enough violence in the course of his day without wanting to spend all evening in an underground fight club; and after all, someone _did_ have to stay with Kazuya.

Kazuya opened his mouth to argue, so Fukuda quickly pre-empted him, “Would you mind being quiet? I’m trying to read.”

“How long does it take you to read that thing? It’s been _weeks_ ,” said Kazu. He squinted at its leatherbound cover, “Gob … Glob …”

“ _Globovitch’s Miseries_ ,” Fukuda corrected him, yet again. Fukuda had currently read 285 pages of said miseries and wasn’t even halfway through the book yet. So far he had to concede that Globovitch, despite not having to fight Amazons every day, did indeed have a pretty godawful life. Globovitch had a sick mother; worked for a corrupt regime; and was constantly destitute. Fukuda identified with that.

“Any dirty bits in it?”

“What do you think?” said Fukuda.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking YOU.”

“It’s about important political and social issues in 19th century Russia. It’s not supposed to be erotica," said Fukuda. There were parts of the novel that would have been considered pretty scandalous back in the day; but understanding historical context wasn’t one of Kazuya’s strengths.

“Yeah, right. No way could you get through all that if there’s no fucking in it,” said Kazuya.

Fukuda said “Why don’t you just use your tablet?”

“Don’t wanna. None of my porn is doing it for me.”

This response wasn’t surprising. If Kazuya wasn’t thinking about alcohol or money, he was probably thinking about sex, “You can’t find _anything_ you like?”

“I can’t get a signal,” said Kazuya. "Mako-san won't let me use the internet."

Kazuya offered the whiskey to Fukuda, who took a quick drink before passing it back. He’d already had the beer and, with the team temporarily down to two people, at least one of them needed to stay alert in case of an Amazon appearing.

Kazuya snatched at the bottle and said “Come on. Read me a story.”

“No.”

“You have to. It’s your fault I’m not allowed to go watch Non's fight.”

“That’s not –”

“Come _onnnnnnnn_! I wanna hear all the naughty stuff!

Fukuda sighed, and pushed his glasses up his nose. He thought that if he made something up, Kazuya would probably get bored with it soon enough. It couldn’t hurt to have a drink to take the edge off Fukuda’s embarrassment. He swallowed down some whiskey and opened the book, “ _Elena Fyodorovna’s bosom heaved as she knelt before Count Vassiliy in the firelight. Her luscious ruby lips parted invitingly with her breathless urgings for him to ravish her upon the bearskin rug …”_

Nothing quite so interesting happened in the actual story. The (rather more chastely described) affair between Elena and the Count took up several chapters and its only purpose was to set in motion a chain of events which indirectly led to the fall of the Russian state; thus compounding the titular miseries. The problem was that without having read the whole book, it was difficult to know which bits could safely be skipped over in order to get back to the main plot.

“What does ravish mean?” said Kazuya.

Fukuda slipped his thumb in between the index and middle fingers of the other hand. Kazuya giggled.

 “ _The Count kissed her and made to undo the laces of her corsetry. Her dress fell down, exposing her fine rounded breasts. Within moments the lovers began to divest themselves of their clothing,” Fukuda went on._

“What’s she got on her feet?”

“Probably fur-lined boots. She’s in Russia in the middle of winter,” said Fukuda. Kazuya groaned, and Fukuda hastily went on _“Elena removed her boots, exposing her delicate feet clad in stockings of the softest silk. She wiggled her toes in Count Vassiliy’s general direction, inciting his manly passions to rip away the material and reveal the feet beneath.”_

“Ohhhh, yeah.” Kazuya’s face was beginning to flush and his breathing had become a little erratic. “Then what happens?”

“ _With one pull he tugged off her stockings. Her_ , um, _bosoms were heaving about some more._ ” That seemed to happen a lot in romance novels, from Fukuda’s limited experience. _“The Count lowered his mouth to her abundant cleavage and took one of her ripe juicy nipples, which were about the size and diameter of a milk candy ball, into his mouth. As she_ –”

“Go back to the bit about her feet,” said Kazuya.

Fukuda blinked. He’d never had Kazuya down as _that_ kind of guy. Kazuya wasn’t shy about making his attraction to certain parts of women clear; and the team had watched porn together before. Yet he had never done anything that suggested he was into feet. Fukuda couldn’t quite remember the story he’d made up, but thought that Kazuya was probably too tipsy to notice, “Um … sure. _The Count took off Elena’s stockings, revealing her delicate toes and ladylike ankles. Her arches were the most exquisite that Count Vassiliy had ever seen; and he’d seen quite a lot of women’s feet in his time, actually. ‘My, your feet are most astoundingly divine,’ he said. Elena pointed her toes and said ‘Then, my lord and master, allow me to use them to worship you as you deserve.’”_

He looked over at Kazuya, surprised that Kazuya hadn’t yet interjected with any more questions or lewd comments. Kazuya’s expression was rapt, mouth gaping open slightly. A quick glance downwards confirmed he was enjoying this rather a lot. Fukuda cleared his throat, and continued, “ _She lowered her beautiful, delicate feet into his lap and began to move them back and forth. The Count made all sorts of pleasured noises which urged her forward to continue._ Manly _noises of pleasure.”_

Fukuda could hear his own voice stuttering over the words. He took a moment to pause for another drink. He needed it. Kazuya was so immersed in the made-up story that he’d apparently forgotten there was alcohol nearby.

“ _The friction of her dainty feet upon the material that covered his appendage was so intense he feared he might climax then and there. Instead, he used his noble strength to restrain himself, and demanded that she lower her feet so he could remove the rest of his clothes.”_

Kazuya snorted. “‘Appendix’? Why don’t they just say dick?”

“They’re aristocrats in 19th-century Russia. Of course they’re not gonna say dick!”

This was embarrassing. Fukuda could feel heat rising to his cheeks. The atmosphere of the whole room felt warmer and he longed to open a window – though it wouldn’t have helped even if he could. He took a few more sips of whiskey, willing it to ease his dry throat even though it was sure to have the opposite effect. Fukuda hesitated over the page and he looked up at Kazuya, who was sitting with his hand quite firmly inside his pants.

“You can’t just stop when it’s getting to the good bit!” said Kazuya, at the sight of Fukuda’s expression. Well, he had a point. The team watched porn together, sometimes, and it had happened often enough that they’d developed “rules” about dealing with one’s physical reactions. Those rules were: not when Shidou’s in a bad mood; not in front of Mamoru; and if you want to keep your teeth, don’t ask Nozomi to join in.

Fukuda rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He was already starting to feel slightly tipsy. Now that he came to think about it, he wasn’t quite sure _how_ one did this sort of thing with their feet. Kazuya should have a better idea but he seemed to be currently too preoccupied to care if Fukuda made a mistake.

“ _Elena put her feet in his lap again. She took the Count’s throbbing organ between her petite soles and began to stimulate it with the most delicate of movements.”_ That had to be how it worked, right? Fukuda couldn’t really think of what else one would do with their feet. He was vaguely aware of some very scary material that involved stomping on testicles with boots on and suchlike; but there was no way in hell he was going to add _that_ into the story. “ _He thrust enthusiastically between her arches, relishing the sensation of her soft, soft skin against his most intimate parts; driving him wild with desire.”_

That sounded enough like a cheap smutty romance novel, didn’t it? Maybe a little too much like one. He realised with a slowly dawning feeling of dread that the story was having an effect on him; albeit not as much as on Kazuya, who was now quite happily and loudly getting himself off. Fukuda, being less of an exhibitionist, could only hope for Kazuya to hurry up and finish so story time could be over as soon as possible.

He glanced over at the screens. No Amazons detected. 

“C’mon.” Kazuya’s eyes were glazed with pleasure, his voice thick. It sent the faintest frisson through Fukuda. He felt powerful, to be able to have this effect on Kazuya, even if the circumstances weren’t exactly appropriate and he was just doing his drunken friend a favour, “I’ll make it worth your while,” Kazuya said.

Fukuda didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but he continued anyway, “ _With her toes she gently caressed him, feeling him grow harder and more virile beneath her feet._ ” Maybe virile wasn’t the right word, but Kazuya wouldn’t care, “ _His movements grew faster and more frantic and he moaned in low, masculine tones that made his increasing arousal all the more apparent. She quickened her pace, stroking the Count up and down upon the soles of her feet.”_

He continued in this fashion, stumbling over words, repeating himself several times. All the same, Kazuya seemed to be enjoying it. Kazuya was making low, deep sounds of pleasure in his throat, stroking himself; occasionally Fukuda could make out a word like “fuck” or “yeah” or “toes.” The sounds sent little waves of arousal to Fukuda’s crotch, and he felt himself straining against the material of his own pants.

He spoke more loudly, trying to drown out both Kazuya’s moans, and the sensations in his own body, “ _Elena took him in the gaps between her toes, playfully teasing at the head of his organ, drawing forth drops of pre-come as she tantalised him with her … er … toes.”_ Fukuda couldn’t think of any other word for toes.

He paused, feeling the blood pounding in his ears and at his crotch. He was tired and horny and his head was spinning. He wasn’t a lightweight. Surely he hadn’t drunk that much? Just a few cans of beer and a small amount of whiskey? Fukuda couldn’t recall. He’d had less than Kazuya for sure, and Kazuya was -

It took a moment or two to realise that it was Kazuya calling Fukuda’s name, “Fuku. _Fuku_. FUKU!”

“What?” Fukuda looked up weakly.

Kazuya indicated towards the book, hands still pawing at his crotch, “Come _on_! I’m almost there!”

“Right.” Fukuda turned the page, even though he was no longer reading from anything on it, “ _Every touch, every caress of her feet drove him wild with lust. She squeezed; the muscles of her feet surprisingly strong despite her daintiness. The Count could restrain himself no more. With a cry he spilled himself forth upon her soles. The orchestra of serfs up on the rooftop reached a crescendo, and Elena collapsed beside her lover on the rug, ‘And now, my lord, what are we going to do about the current agricultural crisis?’ she said.”_

Kazuya didn’t miraculously finish at that very moment; but it didn’t take him much longer. He came with a noisy grunt and flopped down onto the floor. Fukuda hastily looked around for something to use for clean-up, before Kazuya just grabbed the nearest item of someone else’s clothing and Fukuda invariably had to make a very awkward excuse for him. Fukuda picked up a washcloth and threw it to Kazuya, who used it, and then moved in closer to Fukuda’s side.

“That was a good story. Thanks, Fuku-chan.”

“You’re welcome,” said Fukuda.

“I knew you couldn’t read a book that long unless there was fucking in it.”

Fukuda didn’t answer. Kazuya was warm, and having him cling was not helping Fukuda’s problem: that his body had reacted quite happily to his version of _Globovitch’s Miseries_. He wasn’t quite as much of a fan of feet as Kazuya was – perhaps all the talk of heaving bosoms had done it for him. Certainly, having Kazuya noisily and enthusiastically jerk off in the background hadn’t helped.

There was nothing for it but to go to the bathroom. Fukuda was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Even if Kazuya had no issue with masturbating in front of a teammate, Fukuda certainly did.

“Excuse me.” Fukuda was about to stand when Kazuya put his legs up, both feet on Fukuda’s lap - “What are you doing?”

 “I said I’d make it worth your while.” Kazuya smiled, and his expression might have almost been predatory if not for the lazy post-orgasmic haze over his eyes. He nudged his foot against Fukuda’s erection; sending more blood racing towards it; giggling a little as Fukuda flushed and spluttered.

“You’re not serious!”

“I’m totally serious.” Kazuya gave one more nudge and then said “Hurry up. The others have gotta get back at some point.”

Fukuda looked at the clock. It was just past eleven. The rest of the Peston team wouldn’t return until well past midnight, and he turned to tell Kazuya so - but Kazuya was now working on the front of Fukuda’s trousers, opening the zip, pushing down the material. At the sight of Fukuda’s expression, Kazuya said “C’mon, Fuku. You deserve it. I like your bedtime stories.”

Fukuda might have questioned it, but that was when Kazuya took his own shoes and socks off.

Starting off slowly, with just one foot, Kazuya stroked his toes very gently down Fukuda’s shaft; which was already stiff with arousal, the flesh heated. Even that minimal amount of contact made Fukuda twitchy. He was still light-headed, and that made it all the more intense.

“What’re you acting weird about?” said Kazuya. “It’s just like fingers.”

It was, in a way. Fukuda hadn’t understood before how toes could grasp, grip, tease almost exactly like a hand job. He wondered idly how many people Kazuya had done this with before. Kazuya wasn’t quite Elena Fyodorovna, Fukuda thought; but he wasn’t exactly a serf, either. It was difficult to argue with someone who could stroke one’s dick with the deftest of touches whilst the other foot massaged gently at Fukuda’s testicles.

Fukuda’s breath was coming in short starts, now, and Kazuya laughed, “You sound like you’re gonna have an asthma attack or something. Here.” He gestured for Fukuda to move closer. Fukuda hesitated, unsure of where this was going, and Kazuya gave him a strange look before stretching his legs out and closing the soles of his feet around Fukuda.

The sensation drew another sharp noise from Fukuda’s throat. It was a _pleasant_ feeling, that was certain, but not quite like anything he’d ever put his dick inside before. Kazuya seemed to understand the hesitation, and glided his soles back and forth across Fukuda’s length, encouraging Fukuda to thrust. Fukuda was leaking, so that helped with the friction and it didn’t take too long for them to get into a workable rhythm.

“You can be rougher, you know,” said Kazuya.

He jerked his hips upwards with a wicked little smile that sent a thrill through Fukuda and he was exactly right: Fukuda _wanted_ to be rougher, just a bit. He grabbed Kazuya’s ankles, gripping tightly, pulling them back and forth and rocking his hips forward between Kazuya’s soles. Kazuya was moaning again now and it would have been nice if he could have given Fukuda some kind of advance warning about all of this. Any of it. Fukuda didn’t mind helping him out but a heads up was the considerate thing to do, Fukuda shouldn’t have drunk anything anyway and he was close, so close –

He wasn’t 100% sure what happened after that, but the next thing he realised was that Kazuya was hovering nearby, offering him the washcloth and whiskey. Fukuda accepted both without a word. After cleaning himself up and getting dressed as quickly as he could, he went back to Kazuya. Maybe Shidou would be back before too long; he didn’t always stay out as long as the others. Fukuda would no doubt have to patch up Nozomi, and anyone else who’d got into a fight with one of the club's patrons (which at least one of them would have.) Then he’d lecture them about not getting into any more fights even though they’d all be back at the same club the following week.

“No homo,” said Kazuya.

Fukuda opened his mouth. Sure, the evening’s events might not mean anything, but Kazuya couldn’t just boldly deny that he’d sat there and jerked off another guy –

“And bring another book next time. What about that _War and Peace_? They get up to some dirty shit in the army.”

There wasn’t much time to disillusion Kazuya of that idea either, because he chose the next moment to stretch out blissfully and fall asleep.


End file.
